


Lessons in Swordsmanship

by StarlightPhoenix



Series: Ohana Means Family [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Michael remembers that adam exists lol, POV Michael (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Michael (Good Omens), pepper (good omens) was given a wooden sword and went wild, swordfighting lessons, this is so self-indulgent wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightPhoenix/pseuds/StarlightPhoenix
Summary: Michael meant to visit Adam Young, maybe have a conversation with her nephew. She ends up teaching Pepper how to fight with a sword.(Can be read as a stand-alone)
Relationships: Michael & Adam Young (Good Omens), Michael & Pepper (Good Omens)
Series: Ohana Means Family [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794883
Comments: 19
Kudos: 186





	Lessons in Swordsmanship

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn't really have the sibling hijinx like the other parts of the series, but there are references Michael, Gabriel, Lucifer, and Crowley (formerly Raphael) getting along. If you didn't read the series, that's all you need to know to understand this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: I know nothing about swordsmanship so don't take this as a guide.

Michael wasn’t sure why she suddenly remembered Adam Young’s existence. No one ever mentioned him. Lucifer was content to act as if he never had a child, and though Crowley visited the child often, he never talked about him. Gabriel offered one scathing remark about disobedience being genetic and that was it. 

In any case, Michael suddenly remembered that Adam Young existed and was technically her nephew. 

She sat on that thought for a while. Adam Young refused to accept Lucifer as his father. It was likely that Adam Young refused to accept any celestial or demonic presences in his life. Crowley and Aziraphale might visit, but they weren’t invested in his life, sending Christmas and birthday presents but nothing more. 

Still. Michael had a _nephew._

She didn’t make a conscious decision to see Adam Young so much as she walked out of Heaven and found herself in Tadfield. 

It was the idyllic village. She could sense where reality bent, conforming to its master’s desires. The weather was perfect, a bright sunny day for Adam to play with his friends. The leaves were changing colors, lining Tadfield in shades of reds and oranges. The air was clean and she knew that the creek up ahead would be clear. 

She heard Adam Young and his friends before she saw them. There was yelling, loud and energetic as they played. They were still young, only twelve now, and the adults didn’t yet tell them to act more mature. They likely never would, Michael knew. Not until Adam Young himself decided it was acceptable in his small village of Tadfield. 

It was an amusing sight. Adam Young must have sensed her presence during her walk. He was lounging on a pretend throne, one friend standing beside him and two in front, both pointing wooden swords at her. At his feet was a small, growling Hellhound. 

Adam Young watched her approach, looking every bit the king he was meant to be. The child even had a plastic crown. He might have renounced Lucifer as his father, but Michael could see the similarities. 

“State your name and business, stranger,” the girl demanded. She sounded serious, but the exaggerated tone almost made Michael smile. 

“I’m the Archangel Michael. I wanted to meet Adam Young.”

“I thought Michael was a boy,” the child beside Adam said. 

The girl did not appreciate that. Before Michael could respond, she spun around and angrily jabbed the wooden sword at him, though she was too far to actually hit him with it. 

“That’s not how gender works, Wensleydale! Angels can be girls if they want!”

Michael did smile at that. “If they want” was an accurate description of angelic gender, possibly one that Crowley gave. 

“Sorry, Pepper,” the boy named Wensleydale mumbled. 

Pepper nodded at his apology and turned back to her. “What do you want with Adam? We said we don’t want any more interfering.”

“Nothing,” Michael answered honestly. “I merely wanted to see him.” She turned her gaze from Pepper to Adam. “Technically, you’re my nephew.” 

He met her gaze, looking down at her from his make-believe throne. _So much like Lucifer._

“Does that mean anything?” 

She shrugged. “If you want. You renounced Lucifer as your father, but Lucifer has four siblings if you want any aunts or uncles. You already met Gabriel.” 

The children did not like that, becoming visibly angry at the mention of Gabriel. 

“You know him?” The final unnamed child demanded. 

She smiled at the indignant tone. “He’s my brother.”

“Why?” The child pressed. 

It was a familiar question. Uriel asked that same question too many times. Crowley had once defended Gabriel, but now the demon agreed and Michael had to stop their rants. 

“He’s the youngest,” Michael said instead. “If that explains anything.” 

Adam Young nodded in understanding despite having no siblings. 

“You’re not going to convince me to end the world, are you?”

“No, we decided not to have a war,” she assured. 

Those were the magic words. Adam relaxed on his throne. Pepper and the unnamed boy loosened their hold on the swords. Even the Hellhound heeled, lying down in front of his master now that Michael proved she wasn’t a threat to him. 

“You’re just here to say hi?”

“Yes. I can leave if that’s what you want.” 

Her only goal was to see Adam Young. She had low hopes of having a conversation, so the meeting was already going much better than she expected. 

“Aren’t you the reason my not-dad is a demon?”

She blinked in surprise. She wasn’t sure if Adam was upset on Lucifer’s behalf or merely asking a question. He didn’t _sound_ upset, only curious, wondering if the Biblical description was accurate. His friends were equally curious, though they had less stakes in her answer. 

“Yes and no. I can’t be blamed for Lucifer causing trouble, but I did force him out of Heaven when commanded by the Lord.” 

There was no need to burden them with the emotional toll of the Fall. For humans, Lucifer’s Fall was a straightforward tale of good and evil. 

“Wait, wait,” Pepper interrupted. “Does this mean you’re good with swords? Like Aziraphale?” 

“Better,” she said mindlessly, then winced at her own rudeness. 

Pepper either didn’t notice or care about her rudeness. She lit up. “How much better?”

Michael shrugged, aiming for humble. “I’m Heaven’s Commander. It’s my responsibility to train the Cherubim. Uriel trains with the Principalities. That’s Aziraphale.” 

Not that Aziraphale trained often with his duties on Earth, but the rare times he was in Heaven, it was Uriel who corralled him to the training grounds. 

“Can you teach me? _Please?_ Aziraphale won’t.” 

Michael hesitated. The last human girl she taught did not have a happy ending. But Pepper wasn’t fighting in a war. She would likely use her skills to hit that other boy whose name Michael still did not know. It had been a long time since Michael taught a human. They were much more fragile than the Cherubim. 

“Do you have an extra wooden sword?”

“Can’t we use real swords?” Pepper complained. 

Ah. Michael realized why Aziraphale wouldn’t teach her. 

“No. Not until you learn the basics.” 

“Fine. Brian, give her yours.” 

The final child, Brian, handed her his sword, point forward. Michael tried to adjust her grip to something more comfortable, but the hilt was all wood with no covering. Annoying, but nothing she couldn’t work with. 

Brian moved back towards Adam, giving her and Pepper more space. The clearing was covered in piles of leaves, making the ground slippery, but the dirt was tightly packed and the trees provided a distinct border that acted as a ring. The autumn breeze assured Michael that the heat wouldn’t bother Pepper. 

“Can you fight in those clothes?” Wensleydale asked in concern. 

“I can fight in anything,” Michael assured. Armor would be more efficient, but she was used to the cut of her suit and the ruffle of her sleeves. She knew how to move without her clothing becoming a weakness. 

“First is stance,” Michael instructed. “Keep your legs apart and knees slightly bent to make sure you stay balanced. Ignore the sword for now.”

Pepper dropped the sword completely, tossing it to the side. Michael mourned the absence of a scabbard as she inelegantly dropped her own sword. 

Pepper’s stance was already decent. Michael nudged her feet to the correct angle and pushed her shoulders back to stand straight. Pepper followed her adjustments without complaint, moving pliantly as a doll. She stepped back and circled the girl, appraising her stance. If Pepper had any experience at all, Michael would strike to see if she maintained her balance. She settled for nodding and fixing any issues as they came. 

“The most important thing in a fight is balance. As long as you’re standing, you can fight. It should be your number one priority. Your second priority is keeping your weapon.”

Pepper nodded seriously. “First is balance, second is not dropping your sword.” 

Michael collected the wooden swords, shaking off the dirt and handing one to Pepper hilt-forward. Pepper held it with one hand as if it was a stick. 

“Next is how to hold a sword,” Michael continued. “Use both hands, dominant hand on top. It strengthens your grip and you’re less likely to lose it when blocking. The exception is if you have a shield.” 

Pepper’s attention went to the wooden sword in her hands. Her stance shifted back into a casual pose, feet too close together. Michael ignored that in favor of showing Pepper her own grip. The lack of grip on the hilt was frustrating, making it difficult to find an angle without straining the wrist. Michael regretted not using actual swords. 

“Not too hard,” Michael directed. “You need a good grip, but too hard and it hurts the wrist. Loosen your hands.” 

“But you said keeping your weapon is the second most important thing!”

“Yes,” Michael agreed. “But an injured wrist makes it impossible to hold on. Here, let me demonstrate. Hit my sword.” 

Michael kept her wrist loose enough that when Pepper swung her sword like a bat, Michael’s sword moved with the impact but stayed in her hand. It was an impressive hit and would’ve definitely caused damage if Pepper aimed at anything other than Michael.

“It’s about finding the middle ground. If my grip was too tight, the shock of your hit would go to my wrist, possibly forcing me to drop my sword. This way, you take the least amount of damage, short of dodging.” 

“That makes sense,” Pepper admitted. 

Pepper readjusted her grip and, at Michael’s nudge, her stance. Michael circled her, looking for any flaws in her stance and finding none. She was balanced, feet apart and knees bent, her sword in front of her, ready to both strike and defend. 

“Very good,” Michael praised, and Pepper beamed. 

“Can I hit you now?”

Laughing was rude, Michael reminded herself, but Pepper’s eagerness was refreshing and she could appreciate the enthusiasm. 

“A few more tips before you do,” Michael said. Pepper grinned at that. “All’s fair in war. Do whatever you need to do to win. And don’t be afraid to hit hard.”

Pepper, like another human girl centuries ago, absolutely took advantage of having no rules. She swung the sword like a bat, aiming for Michael’s torso. Michael blocked, stepping back with the force. 

“Very good,” Michael repeated, smiling. 

Pepper returned the smile, going for another hit. Michael let herself fall into defense, allowing Pepper to lead. Pepper had the same feral energy of generations of girls who were given sticks or swords and told to go wild. She didn’t hesitate or pull her hits, doing everything in her power to hit her enemy. 

Michael, in return, had millennia of experience with fights, play or otherwise. She kept an eye on the ring of trees, turning into her blocks to avoid being pushed out, guiding Pepper’s movements. She blocked Pepper’s hits but never returned the strikes, letting Pepper have her fun. 

Pepper sometimes forgot she was holding a sword and not a bat, swinging it to bash instead of stab. If it was a real sword, Michael would stop everything to remind her to thrust. In reality, the wooden toys were better as bats than swords. 

Soon, Pepper was getting tired. Michael could feel the forcefulness of her hits decrease, could see her slow down between strikes. For a human, she did well lasting so long. She let Pepper have one more hit, blocking the sword from hitting her side. 

At the next hit, Michael loosened her grip and let the sword fly out of her hand. Instead of stopping, Pepper swung her sword again. Michael lifted a hand to stop it from landing a blow, but Pepper only pointed it at her chest. 

The girl looked up at her, pupils wide with adrenaline and all the arrogance of a child. 

“Do you yield?” 

“I yield,” Michael said formally.

Pepper dropped her sword and ran to the others where they watched. “Did you see that! I won!” 

The boys burst into noise, patting her on the back and praising her win. They talked over each other, all wanting to express their own giddiness at the victory. According to them, Pepper was _amazing–so fast–so good at hitting–deserved to win._ Even the Hellhound sensed the excitement and jumped on her, begging for scratches. Pepper soaked up the praise, nodding and letting them continue, petting the Hellhound on its head. 

Pepper turned back to her. “Does this mean I can use a real sword now?”

“No,” Michael said. 

Outrage broke out, the children collectively deciding that was unfair. Pepper herself glared at the betrayal. 

“But I won!”

“You said after the basics,” Wensleydale reminded. 

“I did, but there’s more to the basics than stance and grip.”

“Like what?” Pepper demanded. 

“Defense. The standard motions. Drills. Learning how to use a shield. How to clean and maintain a sword. You can have a real sword after you learn all that.” 

During her speech, Michael expected Pepper to deflate at everything she had to learn before Michael would trust her with a real sword. Nothing she listed would be a quick lesson, needing days of effort to properly master. Instead, she perked up again. 

“Okay, so when are you coming back?”

Ah. Michael hadn’t thought that far ahead. 

She already spent too much time on Earth; she didn’t have the time to teach Pepper. She already had training sessions with the Cherubim, and there was still paperwork from the lack of Armageddon. It was difficult enough to find time to visit Crowley and Aziraphale, let alone a human girl.

Pepper looked at her expectantly, confident that she would have more sword fighting lessons and earn a real sword. 

She could pass on some paperwork to Gabriel and Uriel, she supposed. 

“The same day next week,” Michael answered. “I’ll bring better practice swords.”

“Hey,” Brian whined. 

“These are a disgrace,” Michael huffed. “It causes more harm than good during practice sessions.”

“And after I learn all that stuff, you’ll give me a real sword?” Pepper pressed. 

Michael originally promised _lessons_ with a real sword, but it wouldn’t be difficult to gift one to Pepper. The permanent postponement of Armageddon meant that Heaven’s full armory was useless. The Quartermaster wouldn’t question Michael taking one. 

“After you learn the basics, yes.”

Pepper jumped in excitement, moving forward to hug Michael. Pepper, like most children, was small, barely coming up to Michael’s chest. Michael carefully returned the hug, mindful of how fragile humans were, especially children. 

“Thank you, Miss Michael.” 

“It won’t be easy,” she warned. “It’ll take a long time.” 

“That’s fine.” 

She patted her on the head and stepped back. If Adam and the others hadn’t expressed their disdain for celestial interference, she would’ve mixed in a blessing. As it was, she erred on the side of caution. 

“D’you have to go now?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. There’s still work to do and deadlines to meet.” 

“Oh…” Pepper shifted on her feet, wanting to say something but refusing to do so. “I’ll see you next week, then.” 

Brian and Wensleydale wave goodbye, and Michael became _Miss_ Michael to them, a title that was just as meaningful as Archangel to her. 

Adam waved, too. “Bye, Aunt Michael. See you next week.” 

_Aunt_ Michael. She had almost forgotten why she was in Tadfield in the first place. Adam Young wasn’t as awful as Lucifer and Gabriel made him out to be. 

Michael was looking forward to her next visit.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so self-indulgent but I loved writing it! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! And an early thank you for reading, giving kudos, and commenting! I truly appreciate it!
> 
> And more of usual, you can visit me at [cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com](https://cleverlittlejay.tumblr.com/) for more GO content! Come say hi!


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